Chapter 7 - She Walked Into the Lion’s House AloneNorah resigned publicly on Monday morning.
By lunch, half the Hayes Syndicate knew.
By dinner, Patrick Doyle called her.
Exactly as planned.
Declan listened from the surveillance room.
Norah answered.
“Hello?”
“Miss Jennings.”
Doyle's voice.
“Mr. Doyle.”
“I heard you've had a disagreement with Declan.”
“That's none of your business.”
“It might become my business.”
Norah looked through the glass toward Declan.
He hated every second.
Doyle continued.
“You've been treated poorly.”
Norah laughed bitterly.
“You have no idea.”
“Perhaps I do.”
Silence.
Then Doyle offered a meeting.
Public location.
A restaurant in Back Bay.
Norah agreed.
Declan did not.
“This is insane.”
“You agreed yesterday.”
“I changed my mind.”
“You don't get to.”
“I absolutely do.”
“I'm not your employee anymore.”
“That resignation was fake.”
“It was legally excellent.”
“Norah.”
She stepped toward him.
“Trust me.”
“I trust you.”
“Then prove it.”
He hated when she was right.
The meeting occurred at 7:00.
Norah wore a wire.
Declan's men occupied nearby tables.
Doyle arrived alone.
He ordered Scotch.
“You look different outside that office.”
Norah ignored the comment.
“You said you could help me.”
“I can.”
“With Declan?”
“With your future.”
Doyle smiled.
“Men like Declan confuse possession with affection.”
Norah's stomach turned.
“What do you want?”
“Information.”
“About?”
“What Keane gave you.”
Norah kept her face blank.
Doyle knew.
“We don't have anything.”
“Don't insult me.”
He leaned closer.
“Robert Keane spent six years protecting himself. He would have kept records.”
“Why?”
“Because cowards always do.”
Norah's pulse accelerated.
“Was my father a coward?”
Doyle paused.
There.
A crack.
“Your father was unfortunate.”
“He knew what you were doing.”
Doyle's eyes hardened.
“He saw things that didn't concern him.”
Declan heard every word through the wire.
His hands clenched.
Norah continued.
“So you killed him.”
“No.”
Doyle smiled.
“Declan did.”
Her jaw tightened.
“You told him the building was empty.”
“I gave an ambitious young man an opportunity to prove himself.”
“By murdering my father?”
“Your father wasn't supposed to go back inside.”
The sentence hit Norah like a physical blow.
“Go back?”
She whispered.
Doyle realized too late.
Norah leaned forward.
“You knew he left.”
Silence.
“You knew he was outside before the fire.”
Doyle's face changed.
“He came back for his coat.”
Norah's eyes filled.
“You saw him.”
Doyle said nothing.
“You could have stopped him.”
His voice hardened.
“He was one security guard.”
Declan stood abruptly in the surveillance van.
Marco grabbed his arm.
“Not yet.”
Declan looked ready to kill.
Inside the restaurant, Norah stared at Doyle.
“One security guard.”
“He made a bad decision.”
“You murdered him.”
“No.”
Doyle leaned forward.
“I built an empire.”
His voice lowered.
“Your father happened to stand where the foundation needed to go.”
That was enough.
Federal agents listening from a second vehicle had their admission.
But Doyle noticed something.
Perhaps Norah's expression.
Perhaps the slight outline of the microphone.
His hand moved.
He grabbed her wrist.
“You're wearing a wire.”
Norah's blood froze.
Declan was already moving.
Doyle pulled a pistol.
Restaurant patrons screamed.
Norah reacted first.
She threw the Scotch into his eyes.
Doyle fired.
The bullet struck the ceiling.
Norah drove her knee into his stomach.
Declan crashed through the restaurant door.
Doyle seized Norah.
Gun against her ribs.
“Stop!”
Declan stopped.
Everything became still.
Doyle backed toward the kitchen.
“Drop it.”
Declan placed his weapon on the floor.
Doyle smiled.
“There he is.”
Norah's breathing shook.
“The sentimental Hayes.”
Declan's eyes remained on her.
“Let her go.”
“You destroyed everything for a secretary.”
“No.”
Declan's voice was calm.
“I destroyed it years ago.”
Doyle blinked.
Declan continued.
“You just made sure I finally looked.”
Norah understood before Doyle did.
She stomped backward onto his foot.
Twisted.
Declan moved.
The gun fired.
Norah fell.
Declan heard nothing after that.
He reached Doyle.
One punch.
Then another.
Doyle collapsed.
Declan could have killed him.
Wanted to.
His hand closed around Doyle's throat.
Then Norah spoke.
“Declan.”
He froze.
She was sitting against a table.
Alive.
Blood on her sleeve.
“Don't.”
Doyle laughed weakly.
“She'll always own you.”
Declan looked down.
Then released him.
“No.”
He stood.
“That's the difference between you and me.”
Federal agents stormed inside.
Declan walked toward Norah.
“She doesn't own me.”
He knelt.
“I choose her.”
The bullet had grazed Norah's arm.
Nothing serious.
Still, Declan remained beside her at the hospital.
“You're hovering.”
“Yes.”
“Stop.”
“No.”
“Declan.”
“No.”
She smiled.
He looked at her.
“What?”
“You're terrible at taking orders.”
“So are you.”
Doyle survived.
He was arrested on charges involving murder, conspiracy, corruption, racketeering and obstruction.
Senator Mercer was arrested two days later.
The evidence spread outward.
Police officers.
Port officials.
Developers.
Accountants.
Dozens of people.
Then federal prosecutors turned toward Declan.
Norah knew they would.
He had agreed to cooperate.
But cooperation did not erase his crimes.
One evening, he received the call.
He would be indicted.
Norah stood in his office when he disconnected.
“How long?”
“They'll offer eight years if I plead.”
Her face went pale.
“Eight?”
“Maybe five with cooperation.”
“Declan…”
“I knew.”
“You didn't tell me.”
“I didn't know the number.”
She walked away.
He followed.
“Norah.”
“You said you were helping me find the truth.”
“I was.”
“You never said you were planning to sacrifice yourself.”
“I'm not.”
“Five years?”
He looked at her.
“You spent six years carrying scars from something I ordered.”
His voice softened.
“Five years isn't sacrifice.”
Tears appeared in her eyes.
“Stop turning everything into punishment.”
He went silent.
She approached.
“You told me guilt isn't morality.”
“You told me that.”
“Then listen.”
Her hand touched his chest.
“If you go to prison because the law holds you accountable, I'll understand.”
She swallowed.
“But don't go because you think suffering makes you worthy of forgiveness.”
Declan covered her hand with his.
“What would?”
“Change.”
One word.
Harder than prison.
“What if I don't know how?”
May you like
Norah looked at him.
“Learn.”
